


Oh no love, you're not alone

by Libika



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libika/pseuds/Libika
Summary: Nothing interesting was supposed to happen that day, when Viktor came back from school. Nothing unusual was supposed to happen when he looked at the mirror.Yet that day, it wasn't his reflection that he saw.Only that of another boy.





	Oh no love, you're not alone

**Author's Note:**

> Please read!!! 
> 
> This is a little something I wrote for my friend Jacki (hetteh-spegetteh on tumblr) and was supposed to be really short, but oh well! Thank you for always putting up with my awkwardness Jacki and just for being such an awesome bean~ Please check out her art everyone! 
> 
> I will now focus more on The Witch's tale! But after sleeping. I also wanted to mention that the goal of this story wasn't to be accurate, although I did do some research. I wrote it for fun ~~ I apologize as well if there are any mistakes, English isn't my native language! 
> 
> I hope you guys will enjoy this as well!

_Mirrors are wonderful objects, for they never truly reflect ourselves. They make us more beautiful, more flawed, prettier, uglier than we are. They are doors to other worlds, from the naïve little girl who went through the looking-glass to the writer tormented by his own physique, mirrors help us see another version of ourselves._

 

_Whether we like or despise what we see is another story._

 

 

_**First Memory.** _

 

The first time it happened was when he was but a young boy, coming back from school on a cold, wintery day. His mother hadn't came back from work yet and the dog was sleeping by the fireplace – the clear blue sky was slowly being painted red, before it would soon fade into midnight blue – and he was covered in no, managing to come back home right before he turned into an ice sculpture. He should have listened to his mother when she told him to cover up. But as usual, he didn't listen and did as he saw fit. Thankfully, the house was warm, and there were towels waiting for him by the hanger.

 

He was too tired to go skate today and went straight to the bathroom to take a shower.

 

 

Nothing extraordinary was supposed to happen that day. That day was supposed to be as ordinary as the previous ones, obeying the usual routine. And yet, something magical happened, akin to the fairytales his mother would tell him. Today wasn't supposed to be special. It wasn't his birthday, New Year's Eve was a month away and he didn't have any plans with his mother.

 

He was supposed to look at his reflection in the mirror, thinking about questions most children thought of. Were his eyes truly blue or were they a reflection of the sky? Will he ever have friends? Will his dreams come true? Will a prince in shining armour come to take him on a grand journey?

 

Then again, extraordinary things only happens when we don't expect them to. As he stepped out of the shower and was drying his hair with one hand and cleaning the mirror with the other, he finally saw it. Too shocked to say anything, he looked in complete and utter silence at the smooth surface. Instead of him, there was another boy in the reflection, whose age seemed to be close to his own. Now that he thought of it, he did seem a bit younger. The little boy seemingly hadn't noticed him yet. Unlike Viktor, he had brown hair and eyes with soft, round cheeks. Thought Viktor didn't understand what was happening, he thought that the boy was cute. Still, the boy seemed sad, and while he couldn't grasp the situation, he felt bad for him.

 

It was such a strange situation that Viktor could only cast aside his questions and confusion and decide to talk to him. Might as well accept the situation as it was.

 

“Who are you? Can you hear me?” The boy through the looking glass finally looked at him, taken aback. He put his hand on the glass, mimicking Viktor's own gesture.

 

“You can...see me?” Viktor nodded. “How...? I don't understand what's going on...” The boy seemed just as confused as Viktor, which reassured him in a way. He didn't know why out of the blue, magically, a boy he didn't know appeared instead of his reflection. Since that made two of them, they might as well talk before his mother came back. It was as if one of his fairytales came true, like Alice who discovered a hidden wonderland through the looking-glass, he found a beautiful boy who was as puzzled as he was. They looked at each other without uttering a word. It felt strange to Viktor not to look at his reflection, but a voice in his head told him that it was a chance like no others. Maybe this boy could be his friend.

 

“I don't understand what's happening, but hum...” Thinking about what to do had been easier than actually talking to the boy. “My name's Viktor. Nice to meet you.” The boy seemed a bit shy, so he hoped that his introduction would calm him a little. Though the boy in the mirror still seemed puzzled and weary, his features softened, and soon enough, he smiled.Viktor thought that he could stare at this smile for hours, blushing at the thought, he tried to brush it off.

 

“I'm Yuuri.” He seemed to be struggling a bit with his words. “I don't know why, but it's the first time I can talk with someone.” Viktor looked at him, fascinated. Any other person would have been weirded out by this, yet Viktor only looked at him with curious eyes. _And compassion? While Yuuri couldn't exactly decipher it, Viktor felt his heart break at thought of someone all alone like that._ “Aren't you scared of me?” Viktor shook his head.

 

“Not really. I don't really get it, but you've been here a while, right?” Yuuri nodded. “It's just weird.” He chuckled a bit, Yuuri soon joining him. “Ah, you laughed! You really looked sad for a while, I guess it's lonely in there...but you're smiling now!” Yuuri couldn't believe it. He'd been in this mirror for a long time, and yet, it was the first time he actually thought positively. He didn't know why he was there nor how he got there. Maybe he'll know one day. Every time he tried to remember, it was as if a black cloud was shrouding his mind, making sure that he only remembered small, insignificant fragments of his memories.

 

_Red. The only thing he could remember, for some reason was the colour red. Every time he tried to remember something, the colour hid in the darkness all the answers he sought. He came to hate it. This bright crimson shade blocking everything from his eyes and soul. It was a red door to which he didn't have the key. The only thing he knew was that he needed to remember a date. Red and a date. Yet it never was the right time._

 

_Every time, the time wasn't right._

 

“Yeah. But it's the first time I'm talking to someone from...the other side I guess.” It sounded weird to say it out loud. Viktor, hair still wet and most likely on his way to catch a cold, had an epiphany.

 

“Does that mean I'm your first friend? Very first friend?” Yuuri could only think about how strange that boy was. Unaware of Yuuri's stare, he talked to himself, not realising that Yuuri could perfectly hear him. “I guess I am. I can't believe I have a friend now, and someone so special!” He chuckled a bit, still muttering those words to himself. Yuuri could only look at him from the glass and while Viktor was definitely an odd one for not running away or screaming, he was a kind boy.

 

“Thank you, Viktor.” Viktor didn't know why he was being thanked, but he still nodded nonetheless.

 

“You're welcome. But I never thought I'd see someone here! You really don't remember how you got here?” Yuuri shook his head. Though he tried to hide it, Viktor noticed that Yuuri had been there for a long time on his own, unable to recover any of his memories and constantly thinking about it or trying to find an answer. To no avail. A little boy trapped in a mirror, unable to remember why he was there or how he got there. Viktor thought about it long and hard, under his companion's worried gaze, before putting both of his hands on the mirror, startling Yuuri. “Want me to help you?”

 

“...What?”

 

“Again, I don't understand how it's even possible, but you don't remember how you got here right?” He nodded. “Then maybe if I help you remember some things, you'll learn how you got here! It's weird, but I really like you and I want to help. Two heads are better than one, right?” For the first time since Yuuri was trapped in this mirror, he felt hopeful. If he couldn't remember anything on his own, then maybe Viktor could be of help. And he had to admit that he could use a friend, have someone with whom to talk. Viktor was eagerly waiting for his answer, an enthusiasm not unlike that of a puppy. And for some reason, he felt like Viktor was definitely going to help him recover his lost memories. It was but a hunch, yet one he had faith in. “So, what do you say?”

 

For the first time, Yuuri smiled without any worries.

 

“Let's be friends, Viktor.”

 

_Perhaps Viktor was the key. In this world of mirrors and reflections, perhaps this strange child could help him find the truth. He was the first and perhaps the only person who could actually see him. Yuuri didn't know why he was still there, lingering in this mirror._

 

While Viktor was worried about his mother learning about this and think of him as completely crazy, he was determined to help Yuuri. After all, he was as lost as he was and was the one who needed help. Viktor had told him this, and he wasn't going to break his promise. Yuuri was his friend, and no matter what happened to him, Viktor would do everything in his power. The little boy nodded to his friend in the mirror, swearing to help him find the truth. As he was drying his hair and putting on his clothes, Viktor kept on talking to Yuuri.

 

“Is there anything you remember? Like your family name?” He might as well start now.

 

Yuuri shook his head.

 

“I just remember a lot of red and...” he seemed to think about it for a while, as if desperately searching for a clue. It was then that Viktor saw Yuuri's eyes light up. “It doesn't really help, but I know that there's something I have to find.”

 

“Something? Like a photo, a ring, something like that?”

 

“I think...I think it was a pair of shoes. I don't know what they look like or why I have to find them, but I've got to find them!” Seeing Yuuri in such high spirits made Viktor even more motivated than he already was. They talked and talked and before Viktor knew it, he was telling Yuuri more than he had ever told his mother. Somehow, he felt at ease with this boy he barely knew. Yuuri listened to him, and tried to answer as many questions as he could, despite his lack of memories. They talked and talked and talked – as the snow kept on falling and the sun was setting to let the moon rise – until Viktor heard his mother calling for him, obviously back from work.

 

“My mom's back, can we talk in my room later?” Yuuri nodded.

 

“Sure! I'll wait for you, Viktor.” Viktor finished tying up his hair, put his dirty clothes on a chair and moved towards the door, ready to open it yet stopped in his tracks. “Is something wrong?”

 

“You can call me Vitya if you want.” He didn't look at Yuuri, for he did not want him to see his cheeks painted red. “That's what my mom and my coach call me. So hum, you can call me that too!” He went out of the bathroom, leaving Yuuri to wonder why Viktor was so embarrassed. He soon realised that if Viktor said that, than this nickname must be something precious to him, something only those he genuinely loved were allowed to use. His cheeks slowly became pink and he found himself grinning again, excited to see his friend again.

 

While waiting for Viktor, in the mirrors' world, he closed his eyes.

 

Closed his mind.

 

Closed his soul and let himself swim in absolute nothingness, hoping to discover something and guided by the new found hope given to him by Viktor. His mind was a mess, that was for sure. Thanks to Viktor, he could know see more clearly, as if a light was guiding him amidst the dark, red sea. So he'll follow that light, he'll reach it no matter what it costs him. As impossible as it seemed, maybe he was there because of some sort of curse, maybe something else and he would be okay. Perhaps, like in those silly fairytales, he was the cursed prince waiting to be saved by some knight in shining armour and everything would be fine in the end. He'll live happily ever after. There was another possibility, but he refused to think about it altogether.

 

He didn't want to think about it, but soon enough, it would catch up to him.

 

And so, he closed his eyes, waiting for his friend.

 

Waiting for at least one, tiny memory to come back to him.

 

 

_A little boy was running towards his mother, a bright smile on his face as he came out of his lesson. Stronger than she looked, she grabbed her son and held him tightly, before letting him stand on his feet once again. He was tired, for his teacher had been stricter than usual. Their show was getting nearer, and though they were children, she aimed for perfection in every move. Minako Okukawa was as ruthless with her students as she was loving and kind. Yuuri loved her, seeing her as a second mother of some sort. He told his mother about how his teacher complimented him during the class, about how they had to change the music at the last minute because their teacher hadn't realised that the choreography didn't quite fit the first song. None of the students felt frustrated at the change though._

 

_They really didn't like their teacher's first choice._

 

_Hiroko listened to her son chatting the afternoon away, talking about his friends and dance and just being his usual bright self. She had been worried, at first, when Yuuri started taking ballet classes. He was a shy child who had a hard time making friends and she had been worried that he would be the only boy in his class. Thankfully, he adapted quickly and despite his anxiety, managed to make some friends and even found the courage to invite them to his house. Since then Hiroko had never seen so many children coming to her home, to her family's delight. Yuuri was happier than he had ever been, and for her, that was what mattered._

 

A flash, blues and purples and suddenly, another fragment. Yuuri didn't know why he started crying, but he couldn't stop. He saw his mother, his father, his sister and his friends. For the first time in years. If such memories hurt this much, then he wondered how it would be like when he became older. Something made him stay here, and when he would reach the time when it happened, he would finally know. Now that he thought of it, he was speaking Russian with Viktor but Japanese with his mother. How could he know this language when he had no memories of learning it as a child? Did he learn it as a teenager? An adult perhaps?

 

_One, two, three, four memories flashing by his eyes and linked by one. Tears and laugher as a child, none of the struggles he would face later on._

 

_He was running in the park with a small poodle, while his mother was telling not to run too fast. He kneeled by his dog's side, letting the small pet lick his face and run circles around him. He couldn't hear everything that he was saying or that his mother was saying for that matter. He could hear a name, his dog's name. Vicchan. The way his dog behaved reminded him of Viktor in some way. He then saw his mother beckoning him closer. A large box was in her hands, tied by a blue ribbon, gold stars on it._

 

_Dozens of memories flashing before his eyes, a childhood being retold at the speed of light._

 

_He practically tore the paper in his excitement. In the box was a new pair of ballet shoes, and to his surprise, they were custom made.They were dark blue with small golden stars drawn on it. The craftsmanship was exquisite. He held them as if holding a treasure, thanking his mother over and over again. She gently ruffled his hair, knowing that the present would have made him happy and forget about his stress for the upcoming show. He had stars in his eyes, as usual when he was thinking about something. He was already talking about dancing with them once they got home, showing them off to his friends, asking to wear them during a competition._

 

_Though she knew that his anxiety and fear of failure lingered and would only become greater, she kept in mind that her son was a fighter. And that nothing was going to happen to him, to her child, the love of her life._

 

Whatever happened to him, at least he had a good childhood. Yet, the more he learnt, the more he wondered what could have made him land here. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't heard Viktor enter his room, waiting by the mirror. He was still trying to grasp some memories, some tiny fragments, as long as he was able, before this bloody red door appeared again, blocking his way once again. He desperately reached out for another bit, before it came back.

 

_The last thing he remembered for now, was his mother's smile, his sister gently teasing him, his father dancing on the table, his teacher holding his leg in the right position, his friends cheering him up. He saw all his birthdays as a child go by, the pairs of shoes he used, the failures and successes. He couldn't remember that much about his childhood, it would have to be for another time, but he was happy beyond measure. And he found himself smile too, as he came back to the present._

 

“Yuuri? Are you there?” Viktor was standing in front of his mirror, starting to get worried. “Is everything okay? You remembered something?” Yuuri finally appeared, a tired smile on his lips. He nodded to his new friend, as the latter sat in front of the lengthy mirror by his bed. Viktor had a pastry in his hands, and complained about how he wished he could share it with Yuuri but couldn't. Yuuri chuckled at the remark and told Viktor what he managed to remember, telling him that while it wasn't much, it still was something. It felt strange to have someone listen to him, someone urging him on and caring about what he had to say. He even saw Viktor grab a pen and notebook to take notes.

 

“It's to help you! Once I get enough info, I'm we'll know what happened to you!” So Yuuri told him everything, in detail. He still couldn't remember his family name, so instead he told Viktor that he wasn't from Russia but from Japan, though he was unable to remember anything else aside from what he already told Viktor. He was surprised that Yuuri could speak Russian so well, but Yuuri told him that he probably learnt it as an adult.

 

“I'm sorry I can't remember much.” Viktor shook his head.

 

“It's fine, I mean you remembered some stuff at least!” He looked at Yuuri's tired face. “Did it hurt a lot?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Did it hurt to remember all these stuff about your mom and all?” Yuuri was a bit surprised by the question, having forgotten the pain altogether. Yet he reassured Viktor.

 

“A little. I still don't know a lot, and I miss my family but...” Viktor was waiting for him to finish, focused on his face and practically holding his breath in anticipation, though he tried not to show it. “I have you now. Thanks for helping me Vitya.” Yuuri's smile was enough to make Viktor happy. He told Yuuri that it was getting late and he had practise tomorrow, so he had to go sleep. Yuuri wished him a good night and disappeared from the mirror's surface, letting Viktor see for himself his rosy cheeks and foolish grin.

 

That night, as he laid in his bed, he thought about the afternoon and his strange encounter. And how he'd help Yuuri find who he was. He let himself be embraced by the stars and the moon, falling asleep soon enough.

 

“ _I hope Yuuri remembers more stuff tomorrow or next week. Or next year. I really want to help him. Because he's my friend.”_

 

Months passed and Yuuri remembered more things, little pieces from his childhood.

 

_Yuuri dancing on a stage as a child, blue shoes and black stockings shimmering, a little star charming all those who attended the show. An adorable smile, albeit a little nervous. He wanted to do his best and make his family proud. He knew that as long as he was standing, he'd always be able to dance. Minako watched him dance his solo backstage, as focused as one could be. As soon as Hiroko's son started to attend her classes, she knew that if the boy decided to pursue a career as a ballet dancer, he might even get an acceptance letter at the Bolshoi, the New York City Ballet, anything. Even at such a young age, he was that good. Yuuri hadn't finished yet, but the audience was star-stuck by this little fairy, this young mermaid moving on the stage as if gliding._

 

And Viktor would listen to all of it. Taking notes, even trying to sketches some memories.

 

_He couldn't hear his family name, yet it was of no concern to him now. Still lost in his childhood, he knew that his family name and the shoes were behind that red door, a door he couldn't unlock now. He saw his mother cooking him a celebratory dinner. Favourite dishes, favourite desserts and friends. Even neighbours came to congratulate the boy on receiving his first trophy. He tried to be humble about it, saying that the whole team won it, but Minako insisted that it was thanks to him. He remembered how his teacher fell and her head fell on the cake his mother had made, making everyone laugh._

They'd talk for hours, Yuuri listening to Viktor's theories and for the most part, his worries. How he had a time making friends yet was starting to talk more to people. Starting with a boy about his age named Georgi. According to him he was a little strange, but he helped Viktor take care of his tired feet after practice. How nice or god awful the weather was that day, or the beautiful monuments in Saint Petersburg he hoped he could show Yuuri one day. He made the promise to do so.

 

_Yuuri was running through the streets of his little town, simply content to admire it like that. Neighbours and various citizens would greet him on his way, some even giving him sweets and snacks for him and his family. Then another one of him playing with Vicchan, his loyal companion, after a dancing class._

 

And so Yuuri remembered and remembered, yet never managing to remember his last name or anything that could genuinely help him, the red door still waiting for him, waiting for the right time, the right moment. And so, the years passed, Yuuri's growth following Viktor's own.

 

 

_**Second Memory.** _

 

There he was, right next to the spotlights. Once again, the entire audience came to see him skate, glide on the ice as flawlessly as usual. They wanted to see this beautiful, breathtaking boy with his long silver hair and pretty smile. He wasn't going to skate now, which made the audience even more eager than it already was to start with. Yakov kept telling him that he would be okay, that he'd win this competition, but while Viktor was confident, he couldn't help but fear for the worst. He was always the first one to arrive at the rink and the last one to leave. He's had falls, blisters, crying bouts at night while his loyal dog comforted him. He'd only won so far, and while the fear of losing was always there, it had never felt this great, this intense.

 

“Do you really think I can do this? I don't know even though I trained so hard and I've won before, I'm just so scared Yuuri.” He looked at the mirror in the bathroom, at Yuuri's face, for reassurance. Yuuri's appearance as he grew “older” only got more beautiful and dazzling by the years. For some reason, he was wearing one of his costumes, no doubt linked to a memory he hadn't yet recovered. Whenever he looked at Yuuri's face, he felt at ease, as if someone was gently embracing him. Whenever one of them didn't feel well, they'd always contact the other, and now, this was exactly what Viktor was doing. “Yakov tells me that I'm the best, that I can win but...”

 

“Vitya. You can do this, and you've done it before. You're greater than you think and you work harder than anyone else, it's time you believe this, you idiot.” The insult had been said with no bite, only fondness. “You've been helping me for years now, and even when I doubted myself, you still insisted on helping me. I believe in you, love.” And there it was, the words that touched his very soul, coming from the mouth of the one he loved. Viktor and Yuuri, despite the circumstances of their first meeting, and the weirdness of it, had grown closer as time passed and as Yuuri remembered more about his past. He was just starting to recover some fragments of his teenage years, and while Viktor hadn't been able to find anything of his own, he tried to guide Yuuri as much as he could.

 

And for now, it was good enough.

 

Viktor found himself grin and let his forehead rest on the mirror's cold surface.

 

He knew that some of his makeup was definitely staining it and that he'd have to do it again and endure one of Yakov's endless – but endearing – lectures, but he didn't care for now.

 

“Thank you so much Yuuri. I'm going to bring back another gold medal, just you see!” Yuuri chuckled.

 

“I know you will!”

 

And there was Viktor, kissing the mirror once again before bolting out of the bathroom to join his coach. Both of them were red and while Yakov was gently lecturing Viktor, Yuuri realised how much Viktor and him were alike and how he wished he could have met Viktor in different circumstances. But at least today was a good day, for he saw that another door had opened, and soon enough, he'd reach the red one. The crimson wall standing between him and the truth. As the young skater arrived in front of the rink, he couldn't help but think of Yuuri one last time before his performance, hoping for him to learn something new once again. Something he'll talk about with his eyes sparkling. Something beautiful, just like him.

 

And so Viktor stepped on the ice, under the roar of the crowd.

 

And so Yuuri closed his eyes, letting himself remember those lost moments.

 

_He saw his family and Phichit's at their first show abroad, even more excited than they were. Yuuri was the main dancer this time, and even some of his fellow high school classmates came to see him. Even his teachers, his childhood friends. He was nervous. More nervous and anxious than he wanted to admit. Every day, he would train harder than anyone else, until either his feet couldn't move anymore or Minako stopped him and forced him to go home. He knew that everyone, every single member of his class counted on him and he wasn't going to disappoint them. Phichit and him had a part together – since this show was written by their teacher herself, she had insisted on giving her best dancers a number together – he couldn't be happier._

 

Viktor knew that this was going to be one his best performances to date, one that other, younger skaters would look at in admiration. He could feel everything. The spotlights, the crowd's applause, every single note of music penetrating his body, his soul in harmony with his surroundings. He didn't feel like he was skating. It was as if he had grown a pair of wings, and was flying. Soon he would reach the heavens. He thought of Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri. It was him who him those wings. He felt like Yuuri was holding him throughout his routine.

 

Yuuri, as he remembered, couldn't help but let his thoughts wander to other, more recent memories. Those he made with Viktor, as he was sealed away in a world only he could see. Memories of late night conversations, of laugher, of tears. Of Viktor wondering if he was good enough to stay at the top, of Yuuri wondering if he hadn't deserved his fate. But most of all, he cherished the kisses and touches he couldn't feel, the embraces Viktor wished he could give him, the sweet words before a competition, the welcoming words once he was back.

 

To the point that some times, he wondered if he really needed to remember everything.

 

If perhaps, this trapped life of his wasn't that bad.

 

But Yuuri knew that he needed to know the truth. No matter how horrible it was.

 

_His costume was akin to a prince's. He was clad in whites and blues, in gold. He was going to be en pointe, Minako's idea to surprise the public, towering most of his comrades. He thought he was going to faint backstage, the spotlights so close to him. He took an old, blue and worn-out pair of shoes with stars, too small for him to wear. Worn too many times. He won his first competition in those shoes, they were his most precious possession. He kissed them, feeling the fabric and sending a prayer to whoever was willing to listen to him above. He did this whenever he felt in doubt._

 

_And then. A red flash amidst the blue._

 

_A glimpse into that red door he longed for yet feared. A figure not unlike his own, screaming and falling. A woman...no dozens of people screaming his name. He couldn't hear it completely, entirely. And there he was again, back to a young teenager nervous his first show abroad._

 

Yuuri was crying, wondering briefly how he could cry in such a state. He didn't know for sure what happened to him for him to be there. But his greatest fear might actually be true. He didn't want any of it. But most of all, he thought of Viktor. Optimistic, bright Viktor, certain that he would find a way to release him from this “curse” as he called it. Yet, if what he feared came to be true, then Viktor would never see him again. And likewise. They would never see each other again. Now he was certain that it was this pair of shoes that was so dear to him. The ones he got from his mother, if only he could know what became of them...

 

_Phichit was holding both of his hands, before kissing his forehead. He laughed it off, saying that he was blessing Yuuri like a god, but he knew that it was Phichit's way of relieving stress. He found himself chuckle at the memory, through the tears. Phichit had always been there for him, ever since he arrived, no barged into his life like a shooting star. Whether it was to pester him about which boy he liked or to give him some advice, he did it all with a warm, unwavering smile. They'd talk for hours after practice, confiding in each other their dreams, hopes and desires, their fears and sorrows._

 

_Through sadness and happiness._

 

_Yuuko's calming embrace, Takeshi's jokes and teasing. He wasn't alone, all the people waiting on the edge of their seats were a proof of that. They watched the dancers' graceful movements, waiting for him to enter the stage. As soon as this number ended, he did. He was another man on stage, he was a nymph, a magical creature bewitching all those who laid their eyes on him. He was the playboy who knew exactly how to seduce and entire city and make it his. The choreography was hard, terribly so. Unbelievably demanding. But this was the proof that no one underestimated him._

 

Viktor had lost track of time. He became the music as he skated, as he danced on the ice. Always thinking, always wondering if this jump had been good enough – he couldn't bring himself to listen to the commentators – if he could have improved this particular step sequence. If Yuuri was okay, if he wasn't remembering anything painful. He carefully listened to the music, waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect time to execute his signature move. It had to be spectacular, it had to come with a bang and surprise the entire audience, even Yakov himself if he could achieve such a feat. For himself, for Yuuri's smile, for Yakov, he'll jump and reach that golden sky. He would fly like no one else ever did.

 

He did.

 

A quadruple flip done like no one else.

 

_Yuuri was the prince who had lost his kingdom, and every move seemed to be filled with melancholy as he played the prince, who had watched his dear kingdom burn in front of his eyes. The audience couldn't tear its eyes from him. He leaped across the stage as if running from some dangerous beast, some cruel sorcerer. He wasn't playing the prince, he became the prince right before their eyes. They could only admire the fluid and graceful movements, unaware of the efforts every move demanded. He still had another duet with Phichit and a group number, yet it was as if his legs were on fire. But he couldn't stop nor slow down. He could pull off such a choreography, such a dance was nothing to him._

 

_Through the pirouettes and_ _fouettés_ _, he was flying. He felt closer than ever to the sky, he was reaching the end of his solo._

 

 _Thunderous_ applause _echoing_ all _around_ him _as_ he _finished_.

 

A _hand_ reaching _towards_ the _sky_.

 

*

 

Once Viktor came back home, gold medal in hand and his mother's arms welcoming him, he thought of how he wouldn't have managed to do so without Yuuri. When he came back to his room, he embraced Makkachin - who was lazing around by his bedside – before walking towards his mirror. He called Yuuri's name, thought of his face and smile when he'd show him his gold medal. Yet, when he saw Yuuri's face in the mirror, he dropped the gold medal. Yuuri was a sobbing mess in front of him, on his knees, and Viktor could barely understand what he was saying. He tried to calm him down, telling him that he'd stay with him no matter what and for as long as Yuuri needed him to. Through the tears and through the pain. Yuuri told him what he managed to remember, and while Viktor took notes as usual, he couldn't help but shed a few tears as well.

 

Once their were both done, he kneeled in front of the mirror and kissed the surface. Yuuri couldn't feel him, but the gesture was more than enough for him. He was happy, he was frustrated, he was angry, sad. Desperate to learn the truth, to finally know his name and open that door. But he didn't want to leave Viktor. He told him all of it, how bloody scared he was. Viktor wrapped his arms around the mirror, mimicking an embrace. Yuuri continued enumerating his worries and fears but also the fragments of happiness. The laugher and smiles of his friends and family. The brief glimpse of the red door he had.

 

He tried to sound hopeful, yet even at that time, when none of them had learnt the truth yet, Viktor knew deep in his heart that he would never see Yuuri again after they learnt the truth.

 

A possibility they had both considered yet refused to say out loud.

 

The chance that perhaps, Yuuri was no longer part of this world.

 

*

 

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The more Yuuri remembered, the more Viktor found himself loving him. Today they were talking about another of Yuuri's memories, one that made them forget their worries. The memory of a birthday. A simple, trivial, normal memory. Viktor was sitting on the ground, his back resting on the well as he was next to the mirror listening to Yuuri. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering how long he would be able to enjoy those days shared with a boy stuck in a mirror. He wrote down whatever details he deemed necessary. While Yuuri was still talking, he looked through the notebook – or rather one of the many notebooks – containing Yuuri's life. Sketches of the shoes he longed for, a portrait of Yuuri, various notes on his memories.

 

He listened and listened, a content smile on his face.

 

For now, they didn't have to think about anything painful. They were simply talking side by side, enjoying the afternoon. Yuuri didn't have any other glimpse of the red door and though Viktor knew that it meant that they were still far from learning the truth. Yet, he couldn't help but think that whatever was beyond that door, it was painful enough for Yuuri to repress it. To keep it in the darkest corners of his mind.

 

But it didn't matter, at least for the moment.

 

“Viktor?” Noticing that Viktor hadn't heard, he tried something else. “Babe, are you here?” The reaction was instant, Viktor practically jumping from where he was sitting to sit in front of the mirror, crimson red. While they had confessed their love for each other, they still were hesitant when it came to nicknames and pet names. Yuuri chuckled at his reaction. “I need to ask you something, and promise me something.” Viktor quickly recovered and nodded.

 

“Anything you want.”

 

“I don't know how, but I'm sure I already died and-”

 

“You can't be sure of that! Maybe you got hurt badly, maybe you're in a coma or something!” Viktor knew that this was the most likely option, Yuuri was probably some sort of spirit that got stuck in Saint Petersburg for some reason. Yuuri waited for him to calm down before talking again.

 

“I know that you've thought of it too. But I'm sure. I just...don't remember how I died. Or what happened to those shoes or to my family.” Viktor was going to say something again, but Yuuri was faster. “I just don't want you to feel sad when I'm gone. I'll always be here one way or another, so please promise me you won't be sad or cry like that friend of yours when I'm gone.” Viktor didn't want to think about it, he avoided thinking about it all the time. He wanted to object, he wanted to tell Yuuri that maybe he was still alive somewhere and that everything would be okay. But he knew. Both of them did. So he did the only thing he could do at this point, promise Yuuri this.

 

“I promise. And I'll help you find those shoes and your family, I swear.” Yuuri put of his hands on the mirror and Viktor did the same in return.

 

A promise that cannot be broken.

 

_**Third memory.** _

 

Yuuri's appearance had changed again, and so did Viktor's. He had cut his hair, while Yuuri's was longer. He was now wearing another costume, white and light blue, most of his chest was exposed. No jewellery or precious stones of any sort, save for a simple choker around his neck. His costume reminded Viktor of the night sky, with stars dancing like diamonds on a beautiful gown. He was sitting on his couch, holding a small mirror in one hand and gently patting Makkachin's head with the other.

 

He didn't need to take notes at this point, able to remember everything.

 

_Everyone came to wish him goodbye, as he got ready to hop on a plane to New York. He was going to polish his skills as a dancer and swore to himself that he'll be part of the New York City Ballet. Minako, his usually composed teacher, was now crying and covering his shirt with her tears. She had seen him grow, cry and battle through all his misfortunes. He tightly hugged her, thanking her most of all for all those years of training, for being like a second mother to him. His own mother and father were there too, hugging their son and wishing him goodbye. He tried to reassure them, telling them that he'll be okay and that Phichit was going to be with him anyways. Minako tried to calm down, reminding him to listen carefully to Celestino, who was going to be one of his new teachers there._

 

_And according to her, there were a lot of shows abroad, some times even in Russia._

 

“Oh, what did you think of New York?” Viktor was curious, as he still vividly could remember his first time there and how great it had been. And how great his hungover had been, although he had to thank Christophe for that.

 

“I was really nervous! I didn't know anyone aside from Phichit and Celestino and I was so worried!” Viktor smiled and then wondered about something.

 

“By the way, do you remember when you learn Russian?” Viktor had been curious about this for as far as he could remember. Yuuri gave him a smile, finally able to answer him.

 

_The first days at the dorm, Phichit and him sharing a room with another student, a year younger than them. He was a bit shy and didn't speak much at first. But Yuuri could see that he was a nice person, so Phichit and him made the effort to learn more about him and eventually he opened up to them, although he felt closer to Yuuri. Even telling Yuuri about his crush on Phichit. The days at school were unbelievably tiring, but fortunately, most of them got along which made it bearable._

 

“One of the friends I made there was Russian and he had a hard time making friends. His name was Nikolai, he was shy but on stage he was a beast! Phichit and I decided to learn Russian and asked him for advice, we thought it would be nicer for him to speak his native language with other people.” He seemed embarrassed about it. “It was hard at first, but he was genuinely happy that foreigners were making an effort to speak his language. And he had such a huge crush on Phichit, it was adorable! ” Viktor kept listening to him without a word. _“Not as adorable as you, Yuuri.”_

 

He stood up from where he was, carrying the mirror with him, to make himself a cup of coffee. Makkachin followed suit, and barked softly at the mirror. It had taken him a while to notice that his dog was able to see Yuuri or at the very least, hear him. He kept hearing and commented on Yuuri's recollection, only interrupting him to ask if he wanted to see the palace they visited again. Though they could not touch each other or hold hands, it still felt like a date. He was eager to learn more about him, but from the look of it, the end was near.

 

Soon enough, it would all end.

 

_*_

 

Viktor came back from his training, earlier than usual. Yakov had told him to rest, since he had an important competition coming. He had kept a pocket mirror on him, so that he could talk to Yuuri on his way from the rink. Yuuri was still remembering some bits and parts of his life in the US, until suddenly, he said a name that Viktor knew all too well. A single name that could help him learn more about Yuuri and perhaps actually do something. He was thinking about going out for dinner afterwards, so he didn't take off his shoes right away.

 

_Other memories came to him until one of them made him stop speaking. They learnt that aside from Celestino, they were going to have another teacher for a few weeks, named Lilia Baranovskaya. She was unbelievably strict, even by their school's standards, but she also genuinely cared about her students and wanted them to succeed. She never pushed a student to their limits, unless she knew that they could handle it. When he had managed to surpass her expectations he remembered what she told him, and in those simple words, was the answer he had been seeking all this time._

 

“ _It was not easy, but you succeeded. You truly were beautiful today, Katsuki Yuuri.”_

 

Viktor was surprised, even stopped petting his dog. Yuuri was smiling, but it was the sort of smile you'd see on someone who knew their hour had come. “I remember my last name Viktor...Now we can finally learn more about what happened to me, right?” Upon noticing Viktor's shocked face, Yuuri grew worried. “Viktor? Vitya what's wrong?” Whatever it was, Viktor seemed to have realised something, something that Yuuri couldn't quite put his finger on. Truth to be told, he expected another reaction from him. But then again, if there was one thing he had learnt after spending all this time with him, it was that the skater was never predictable.

 

“Yuuri, did you just say that you were training under Lilia Baranovskaya for a while?” Yuuri thought that Viktor would have asked questions about his name, rather than one of his teachers. But perhaps Viktor already had an idea of what to search now that he had his last name, and only asked this to have more details.

 

“Yes. It was for about...two to three months I think. Why?” Viktor was muttering something to himself, it was so low Yuuri could barely understand what he was saying. He could only catch glimpses of it, confused. He didn't expect what came next, thinking that it must have been the result of some divine intervention...

 

“You probably won't believe me, but I know her. She is Yakov's ex-wife.” Before Yuuri could say anything, Viktor grabbed his phone, his coat, his scarf and got ready to go out. “Yuuri, I'll be back soon! Makkachin will stay with you, okay! I think I've found something, but I'm not sure, see you later!” ...a divine intervention that made Viktor exit his apartment as quickly as he had entered it, to Yuuri's dismay. He didn't know what to do, taken by surprise by Viktor's reaction. He moved to another mirror, a large one that Viktor had added to the living room, to be by Makkachin's side. If Viktor had some answers for him, such as what became of his family and friends, or that dear pair of shoes.

 

And while Viktor was away, Yuuri suddenly found himself in pain.

 

_As a red door finally opened._

 

_*_

 

_He trained long and hard to achieve his goal. Even when some other teachers told him that he wouldn't succeed, even when some classmates mocked him or teased him, but he did it. He became part of the New York City Ballet. When he got the letter, during one of his last classes, Nikolai and Phichit both begged him to open it right there, right now. They told him that no matter the results, they would support him. He did it, he did it. Yuuri at least was going to be the centre of attention as a dancer for one of the most important ballet companies in the world. He was going to inspire other people and make them smile, he was going to be a guiding star._

_He took his dear pair of shoes from his bag and kissed them once. He thanked his parents, his family, his friends, his teachers and even hugged tightly Lilia and Celestino, to their surprise._

 

Viktor had managed to get ahold of Lilia, and while she was surprised by his request, she accepted to meet him at an old cafe, right by his rink. He arrived there before her – already ordered two cups of tea - waiting for a few minutes until he saw the unmistakable figure of an ex-ballerina. The greatest of them all. Though her face remained stern, she was glad to see Viktor, having always been quite fond of him.

 

“Ah, Lilia. I'm glad you managed to come so quickly.” She sat down in front of him.

 

“Think nothing of it, I was only surprised at your tone on the phone. Is something the matter?” Her voice was calm, but her face showed her concern and worry. “You sounded quite frantic on the phone, so go on. What is it that you wanted to talk about?” She sipped on her tea, waiting for him to say whatever he wanted to say. She didn't know what to expect, as usual with Yakov's student. Viktor thought about it, wondering where he could start. He just decided to go for it and forget about the rest.

 

“Do you remember a dancer named Katsuki Yuuri? Please tell me everything you know about him.” Lilia put her tea down, and Viktor saw a melancholic smile bloom on her face, an expression she reserved only for those dear to her. She didn't know why Viktor was suddenly interested in him, but she knew better than to ask. When Viktor set his mind on something, he only wanted answers and results.

 

_His first days there were difficult to get used to, but he powered through it. He would meet Phichit and Nikolai on the weekends for coffee and talk with his parents as much as he could. He was excited to start, to be just like all those dancers before him who started from the bottom and were now known far and wide. If he managed to prove himself to them, he could become a soloist or a principal dancer. He was going to wear costumes made of stars and diamonds. Everything was going to be fine. When he had told his family the news, during a brief trip back home, they all cried of happiness, even his usually calm sister._

 

_He saw the long hours of training and fitting into a hundred different costumes. Blood, sweat and tears. He worked himself to the bone, never resting and his work paid off. He was going to have his first show as a soloist. The costume had become a second skin to him, the blues and whites embracing his figure and the soft choker around his neck. He was ready, he knew he was. Even though he was tired. Even though his health seemed to get worse every day. He went to see a doctor, and while they weren't able to exactly determine what was affecting him and simply told him to rest more, rather than train like he did now._

 

“It's been a while since I heard someone mention his name. Aside from Celestino. He was hard to forget. Out of all the students I taught in New York, he was by far the best. He made mistakes, mainly because he was nervous and anxious, but he always executed his performances with a passion that no one else had.” Viktor was drinking her words to the last drop. “During his last year, he was even asked to join the New York City Ballet. He was not a genius, but he worked harder than anyone else. We all thought he was going to have a bright career ahead of him.” She drank some of her tea and put down the cup once again, under Viktor's gaze.

 

_Even though Yuuri hadn't been feeling well for weeks, even going as far as throwing up blood on one occasion, he put it all on the count of fatigue and rested as much as he could before the show. He waited backstage for his time to enter, still tired and his skin looking paler, more yellow. Everyone else tried not to be too worried, thinking that the makeup artist must have overdone it._

 

“What happened? Please I can't tell you why, but I've got to know.” Lilia didn't question this.

 

_He stepped onto the stage, managing to stand by sheer force of will. He tried to spin but to the audience's horror..._

 

“It happened on stage, during his first performance as a soloist.” She obviously didn't want to talk about it, but she knew that Viktor had his reasons to ask this. Perhaps he had become a fan or found himself inspired by him. “ The show was here, in Saint Petersburg. I went to see him perform, and when his time to enter the stage came, he looked like a corpse. He threw up blood on stage and collapsed from exhaustion as well.” She wouldn't be able to erase this image from her mind. She had gone with Celestino to the hospital that day. She was waiting for an interruption from Viktor, but he let her continue even though his soul was yelling and screaming inside.

 

_...red, red, red, red, red, red,red, red. On the stage, on Yuuri's costume. They all started to panic as the staff carried Yuuri backstage. They had to cancel the show, and Yuuri could faintly hear his colleagues and friends from school screaming, crying, yelling his name. He wanted to tell them not to, that he was going to be okay. He wanted to speak up and tell them not to cry, that he was okay. But who would believe that? And before he could let his mind wander more, he let his body fall asleep. It had been impressive that he had managed to stand on his own for so long, but even the strongest individuals fall._

 

_Life is unfair even to those who don't deserve it._

 

“The doctors only managed to learn what it was when it was too late. At that point, it was too advanced to even hope for him to be cured.” From what Lilia was telling him, Viktor knew without even been told.

 

“Cancer.” Lilia nodded, Viktor didn't want to cry but he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself. So he let it out, thankful that the cafe was empty, save for Lilia and him. He couldn't stand anyone recognising him now, as he was crying. Lilia held his hand, the way a mother would, trying to give him some comfort while still giving him the space he needed. Viktor knew that Yuuri had died of unnatural causes, but he still thought of how unfair it had been to his beloved. The thought that came to him would have made him laugh in other circumstances. The person he loved was the one he was destined to never be with. The one he could, would never spend his days with. And he cried and cried, tried to calm down, under Lilia's words.

 

“But I'm glad that people haven't forgotten about him. Even when he wasn't a soloist, he caught people's attention, and I have met young dancers who look up to him. He died when you were still a young boy.” She gently patted Viktor's head. “Before we could send him back to Japan, he died here. His family and friends were devastated. Celestino or his Japanese teacher never got over it, and last time I heard, his family still lives in Japan. Some of his old friends became ballet instructors, or help other coaches, like me.” Viktor had calmed down enough by now to talk.

 

“Lilia, can I ask one more thing?”

 

“Anything.”

 

“Have you ever seen him kiss a pair of shoes?” Lilia was now taken by surprise, wondering how he knew about that. “Some times, for him it was like a good luck charm. When I asked him about it once, he told that ever since his mother gave them to him. I think his parents buried them with him.” Viktor nodded and did his best to smile through the tears.

 

“Thank you Lilia. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

 

_**Last memory.** _

 

He cried with Yuuri, already breaking his promise not to cry when he'd learn the truth. He promised Yuuri that he would bring him where he was, so that he could see it before fading away. He cried all night, spoke all night with him. He searched as many information on Yuuri's parents as he could, even asking Lilia to use her contacts to do so. And while Yakov didn't understand why suddenly Viktor had to go to Japan, he simply told him to come back as soon as he was done with his business there. It went by quickly. As Viktor sat on the plane he simply looked at Yuuri on his compact, looking at him becoming less clear than he was before. He quietly talked with him, trying not to be noticed by other passengers. Although he could still print a picture of him, he wanted to engrave as much as he could into his mind. His smile, the conversations they shared at night. The laugher, the tears.

 

Yuuri had truly seen his whole life pass by again.

 

He was talking to him one last time. Seeing his smile one last time. Hearing his voice one last time.

 

*

 

He didn't lose time in reaching Hasetsu. Despite it being spring, the weather was quite cold yet welcoming nonetheless. It felt like home. Perhaps he felt like this because of Yuuri. He walked and walked, following Yuuri's instructions. He wished he could have made some sort of joke to lighten up the mood, but he didn't have the strength to do so. He was going to say goodbye to the man he loved the most, the one he wouldn't never see again. As Yuuri's parents' establishment was getting nearer, Viktor noticed a small florist and walked towards the shop.

 

“Yuuri, what flowers do you like?” Yuuri smiled fondly. Even though Viktor had known that he was dead for some time, he never spoke to him using the past tense. For Viktor, as long as he was talking to Yuuri, Yuuri was alive.

 

“Roses. Red roses.”

 

“Then red roses it is.” He went to the florist, and managed to ask for a large bouquet of red roses. He went past the bathhouse's gate, to a small garden where a single grave was present. No one else was there. He gently put down the bouquet of flowers, right under the stone's inscription. He couldn't help but crack a smile at how fitting it was. He opened his compact mirror, to look at Yuuri once again. He was fading away, part of his face was already gone, but he kept his bright and dazzling smile through it. Through the pain and through the tears, once again.

 

“I brought you home, Yuuri.” He wanted to beg him not to go, but he couldn't do that. Yuuri had to rest in peace.

 

The dancer nodded.

 

“Thank you Viktor. For everything.” Another section was gone. “I can go without regrets now. Please don't be sad, we'll see each other again. Until then, please have a good life.” His face couldn't be seen anymore, for Viktor could only see his own reflection, and hear the soft voice he loved so much. As if the wind was speaking to him. “I love you. I'll always love you. I'll never forget about you, Vitya.” Viktor fell to his knees by the grave, crying and crying, cursing all the gods for this injustice, how unfair it was. He wanted to yell and break his own heart to diminish the pain – tearing apart, stabbing, cursing – he let out a sob and another, and another. Each sound that came out from him was heartbreaking. He knew that he would be hopeful again, that he would honour Yuuri's memory by living a long and fulfilling life. But no matter what, there would always be a missing piece. Something that wouldn't feel right. He sobbed for it. For this part of his heart, of his soul that was buried here.

 

A part he would only find again, when he would be gone as well.

 

And even in his career, that smile would be his guiding star.

 

And even when he would become an old man, on his deathbed, he would remember this truth engraved in the stone.

 

 

“ _An angel that God had to claim too soon.”_

 

 

 

 

_-Fin-_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this little thingy that turned out to be not so little in the end! 
> 
> I have lost someone dear to me because of cancer, and I did base some of Viktor's reactions on my own. As always, a review is more than welcome! 
> 
> also feel free to send me a lil' message on tumblr : realm-of-spells.tumblr.com


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